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Chapter Nine
-Noemi-
IOPENED MY EYES TOblue fabric wafting in the breeze and the soft chirping of birds outside. A light breeze cooled my skin. My throat was parched.
I turned my head to the side. I was in my room, rather, the room I was assigned to on Michael’s mystery island. The white walls and white rattan furniture weren’t welcoming. While it looked feminine and fragile, it felt stifling and confusing. Or maybe that was just me, dealing with finding out the man I’d wanted for years was an assassin.
A figure sat next to the bed. Winter hours created shadows around the room, but I knew who he was. Chair back against the wall. Hands steepled together as his elbows rested on his knees and he stared at the floor. That perfectly combed hair was messed up as though hands had run through it repeatedly.
“Dante?” My voice cracked as I tried to sit up.
His head shot up. “You’re awake.”
The relief in his voice almost made me smile through my discomfort and irritation, but it wasn’t enough to make me feel any better.
“Yes.” I looked around the room. “Is there something I can drink?”
“Outside on the patio. I’ll be right back.”
Dante left the room as I hauled myself up into a sitting position. I was embarrassed at having fainted, angry at his behavior, and confused about just about everything else.
Dante returned immediately with a glass of water. He handed it to me then returned to his chair by the bed.
I took a small sip, then a much larger one. The crisp, cold water slid down my throat, soothing the dry ache.
“You need to stay hydrated,” Dante said sternly from his chair.
I wanted to act out like a spoiled child.And you need to shut up! But I held my waspishness in and went for sarcasm instead. “If that’s your way of saying you were worried about me, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
His eyes narrowed, but I didn’t care if I made him angry. “How long was I out of it?”
“A few minutes,” he answered with a pensive look on his face as he studied me. I stared back at him, completely at a loss as to what to say to this man I knew little about.
“Dinner is on the patio if you’re hungry. You should eat. Get your energy back.”
Food. That was his way of saying he cared about me. If I were expecting him to throw himself at my feet with warm words, I would have been heartbroken. But I was beginning to understand the man he was and that invitation to eat was as good as it would get. For now. I didn’t know if I really wanted to eat, but I was hungry, and I knew I should put something in my stomach.
“Thank you.”
I stood up and Dante jumped from his seat.
“Maybe... I should bring a plate to you?”
His hesitant tone stopped me as I took a step toward the door. While I had done a terrible job of connecting some dots, heck, almostallthe dots, I didn’t think I was mistaken this time. Dante was nervous and unsure of himself. He wanted to know that I was okay. He wanted to help me.
But he didn’t know how.
I put my hand out, a momentary conciliatory gesture that I hoped he had enough social awareness to understand. His dark eyes stared down at my outstretched fingers before he took my hand in his.
His usually strong, firm grip was cold and clammy. He barely held my hand, but for that moment, I was glad that he tried.
The small patio table was set with a light meal of small tea sandwiches, fresh fruit, and macaroni and cheese. The odd assortment brought a smile to my face.
“It looks good,” I said as Dante pulled out a chair for me.
“Michael sent it over. He was worried about you.”
I took a cucumber sandwich from the tray followed by a large scoop of the macaroni. “Well, it looks delicious. I’ll have to thank him. I’m sorry, by the way. I’ve never fainted before. And thank you, too.”
